


I Don't Want You To Go (But I Can't Ask You To Stay)

by katling



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cullen is oblivious, Embarrassed Cullen, Fenris Is Blunt, Headaches & Migraines, M/M, and does not appreciate Cullen's martyr tendencies, inadvertent cuddling, indulgent fenris, mention of lyrium withdrawal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-30 06:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10871394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katling/pseuds/katling
Summary: Cullen’s withdrawal symptoms are driving him mad and relief comes from an unexpected source.So this was an idea that came to me… as I embrace yet another rarepair. Why do I do this to myself?





	1. Chapter 1

Cullen rested his head in his hands and tried not to move. His head was pounding with a withdrawal headache, one of the worst he’d had since the early days after leaving Kirkwall and every movement, even the smallest of them, sent waves of agony flooding through him. He desperately wanted to climb up to his bed and bury himself under the blankets and wait until the headache either went away or killed him but moving that far wasn’t really an option right now. He was so caught up in his pain and misery that he didn’t hear the knock at his door or the person who entered.

It was the scent that penetrated first. It was lyrium but… different. It was lyrium but also not-lyrium. It strangely didn’t make him feel any cravings, it soothed him, it sliced the sharp edges of the migraine away. He made a muffled sound and leaned towards it, especially when it got stronger and closer, until he was resting his head against a firm stomach. That alone should have shaken him out of the state he was in but the headache had been so bad and had been going on for so long and the scent of lyrium was so soothing that all he could do was lean against whoever was standing beside him and simply _breathe_.

There was a dull thunking sound from the direction of his desk and then fingers were carding through his hair and gently massaging his scalp. He made a soft sound that might have been thanks and was definitely contentment and relief and let the combination of those clever fingers and that almost-lyrium scent surround him and slowly chase the headache away.

Of course, as the headache faded and he became more aware of himself, he also became aware that he was practically cuddling up to a complete stranger. He pulled back sharply, ignoring the warning throb in his head, and could already feel the way the blush was spreading over his face.

“I am sor… Fenris?” He stared up at the elf he’d last seen back in Kirkwall with surprise. “I… what are you doing here?”

There was a faint air of amusement about the elf even though his expression was as dour as ever. “Venatori mages.”

Cullen blinked, wondering why Fenris would care about them, then he remembered the reports about Fenris’ origins and of an altercation between Hawke and his friends and a Tevinter Magister in the Hanged Man. The reports had mentioned demons and blood magic but no one at the Hanged Man would talk to Cullen about it. Not that he’d really tried very hard to _get_ answers. He’d had more than enough on his plate at the time with Meredith’s growing fanaticism and his own doubts and self-awareness spawning waves of self-loathing. The Magister had died and that was all Cullen had really cared about at the time.

“I see,” he managed as he became aware that the almost-lyrium scent was coming from _Fenris_ and that meant that the markings he’d simply thought were a strange sort of tattoo were in fact… not made of _ink_. He wondered how he’d missed it before but then… he’d never spent much time around Hawke and his friends and in the Gallows, between the mages and the Templars, the scent of lyrium was somewhat omnipresent.

“The Inquisitor offered me a position in his Inner Circle,” Fenris continued. “I declined but indicated I was still willing to assist the Inquisition. He sent me here.”

“I see,” Cullen said again, his embarrassment starting to crawl out past his surprise again. “I, er… forgive me, Fenris. I didn’t mean to… to… _maul_ you.”

Now Fenris chuckled but it soon faded into an intent, knowing scrutiny. “When did you stop taking lyrium?”

Cullen winced then sighed and scrubbed his face with one hand. After what had just happened, it seemed pointless to deny it, not to mention somewhat insulting to Fenris. “When I left the Templars. So, shortly before I left Kirkwall.”

“Should I leave?” Fenris waved a hand towards himself. “Is this…?”

“No!” Cullen said sharply then shot the elf an apologetic look. “No,” he said more softly. “It’s… It doesn’t…” He made an exasperated noise. “It… helped, strangely enough. It’s… lyrium and yet… not. If that makes any sense.”

Fenris snorted. “Not really but I don’t know much about what was done to me or about lyrium in general. If it is not harming you, I will take your word for it.”

Cullen’s embarrassment started to fade in the face of Fenris’ blunt manner and easy acceptance of the circumstances. He’d forgotten that the elven warrior was like that on the few occasions he’d met him. He’d never been the type to ask a thousand questions like Hawke had. He looked over at his desk and saw Fenris’ spiky, dangerous gauntlets sitting on top of his paperwork and realised what the thumping sound he’d heard earlier had been.

“Are you sure… I mean…” he sighed. “You are allowed to say no to the Inquisitor…” He broke off at Fenris’ low chuckle and gave him a curious look.

“Varric has already taken care of all the fussing,” Fenris said, looking openly amused. He shrugged. “You fight the Venatori. I will always take a great deal of pleasure in killing Tevinter mages.” He held up one hand when Cullen opened his mouth. “And yes, Varric has already told me of this… Sparkler.”

“Dorian is a good man,” Cullen said earnestly. “I, uh… play chess with him a couple of times a week. At least when he’s here. The Inquisitor takes him with him often. They’re, uh…” He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Together.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “The Inquisitor is a Dalish mage.”

“I said he was a good man,” Cullen replied.

Fenris stared at him for a moment then he shook his head. “Perhaps. Now, tell me what I can do.”

Cullen refrained from the plaintive response he wanted to make about Fenris staying to soothe his headaches and instead pulled a pile of papers over. “I have plenty of complaints about the Venatori so you can take your pick.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen insists he is not a martyr, Fenris begs to differ and Cullen is the most oblivious man in Thedas.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Lavellan said with frustration. “If I have to talk about Orlesians for another minute, I might invade the entire damn country.”

Leliana chuckled while Josephine shot him a look of amused reproval. Cullen, on the other hand, felt only relief. His head was pounding again and today the withdrawal had decided to add a faint sense of nausea to the mix. Cassandra had taken one look at him this morning, sighed deeply and worked him over from one side of the ring to the other. It had made him feel immensely better that she would not give him any quarter but that sense of relief had not lasted long once he’d cleaned up and arrived in the War Room. Despite the gaps in the walls, Cullen had quickly become hot and nauseous and it had taken all his considerable abilities at concentration to keep his mind off his physical troubles and on his work.

Now, as Lavellan left with Leliana and Josephine, Cullen leaned on the table, bracing himself with both hands and letting his head fall down between his arms. His stomach roiled and he clamped his lips together and swallowed in an effort to control the feeling. Now that he had nothing to distract him, his headache made itself known with a vengeance and he gave a soft moan as he contemplated exactly how he planned on dragging himself back to his office. The temptation to throw himself out the gaps in the walls of the War Room was strong.

The sound of the door opening had him scrambling to pull himself together but then the scent of almost-lyrium flooded over him and he slumped down with a soft sound of relief. He heard Fenris’ low chuckle as the man rounded the table and then the elven warrior was standing next to him. Cullen leaned into him before he could stop himself but Fenris said nothing, simply let him be.

“Have you not been to see the healers?” Fenrir finally said, his voice soft and low, something Cullen and his headache appreciated.

“There’s nothing they can do,” he murmured. “Other than elfroot potions and they only take the edges off. I just have to… endure.”

Fenris snorted. “And here I thought Hawke had a martyr complex.”

“I’m not trying to martyr myself,” Cullen said irritably then winced as his head throbbed.

“My presence helps, does it not?” Cullen nodded reluctantly and Fenris snorted again. “Yet you do not ask for my help.”

“You have better things to do than sit around babysitting me,” Cullen snapped. 

He raised his head then clutched at the table and moaned as the sudden movement made his head thump and his stomach lurch.

“Kaffas! You are an idiot,” Fenris snarled then Cullen heard two thumps on the table. A moment later, his face was being cradled by Fenris’ bare hands. The skin to skin contact with the lines of lyrium embedded in Fenris’ palms sent a jolt through Cullen. In its wake, his headache began to settle and so too did his stomach. He gave a sigh of relief and leaned into Fenris’ touch. He opened his eyes to find the elf watching him with an inscrutable expression.

“You are a fool,” Fenris said bluntly. “As long as this is not harming you, then I have no objection.”

“I… it doesn’t feel the same as the lyrium I was taking,” Cullen said after a long silence. “There’s no… craving, no feeling of… of addiction.”

He ducked his head at the wave of shame that washed over him at that admission and in doing so, he missed the expression of understanding and sympathy that was briefly on Fenris’ face.

“Then I have no objection,” Fenris repeated.

“I…” 

Cullen raised his head and everything he was feeling must have been written on his face as plain as day because Fenris sighed.

“You are not _weak_ , Cullen,” the elf said bluntly. “I have seen former Templars who were weak, begging on the streets, doing whatever it took for just dust. I saw Samson sending young mages off into slavery. You are not like those men. Tevinter had more than its share of vices and I have seen addiction eat men and women alive. You are not like them either. You have a martyr complex a mile wide but you are _not_ weak.”

Cullen swallowed hard and closed his eyes against the pinpricks of moisture growing in them. He might not have known Fenris well in Kirkwall but what he had known about the elven warrior is that he was deeply, unrelentingly blunt when he chose to make his opinion known. 

“Come on.”

Cullen let Fenris lead him out of the War Room and back over to his office. He made a token protest about his work before Fenris chivvied him up the ladder to his room above. Once there, he slowly stripped off his armour and sat down on the bed to pull off his boots. He didn’t notice that Fenris had been doing the same until he tossed his boots into the corner and looked up.

“Fenris… what?” he stammered, blushing a little as Fenris stripped off his tunic. His eyes were immediately caught by the looping, swirling lines of lyrium that flowed across Fenris’ chest, sides and back. They were beautiful but he was all but certain that voicing that opinion would not go down well.

“Take off your shirt,” Fenris ordered in a voice that brooked no objection.

Cullen’s blush deepened as he did what Fenris had asked then the elf was pushing him down onto the bed. He shifted over onto his side in confusion, something that deepened when Fenris climbed onto the bed as well. Then Fenris plastered himself against his front and the contact with all that lyrium made Cullen gasp and shudder. He wrapped an arm around Fenris’ waist automatically and tried to catch his breath as his headache began to subside and his nausea settled. Neither went away precisely but they became… bearable.

With the lessening of the pain, he noticed that Fenris had a somewhat contemplative look on his face. “Fenris?”

The elf gave a slight start then raised an eyebrow. “This is… pleasant.”

Cullen’s blush, which had been starting to go away, suddenly returned with a vengeance. “I, er… yes.”

Fenris looked very amused by that. “The only time you blushed in Kirkwall was when you were talking about the whores at the Blooming Rose.”

“I… well… that was…” Cullen huffed and gave Fenris a rather ineffectual glare. “That was then. I was… different.”

“So I’ve noticed,” Fenris replied. “I liked you then. I like you better now.”

Cullen blinked. “Er… thank you?”

Fenris gave him another long look then quirked an eyebrow and settled down. Cullen had no idea what that little display meant but the subtle hum of the lyrium in Fenris’ markings was soothing and he was more concerned with that than anything else. He closed his eyes for a moment then forced them open again when he felt sleep starting to crawl up on him. He had too much to do to fall asleep right now, no matter how tempting it was.

“Cassandra hasn’t been… demanding?” he asked, in an effort to stay awake.

Fenris looked faintly amused. “No but it wouldn’t matter if she was. I have no idea where Hawke is.”

“I knew you two didn’t always see eye to eye,” Cullen ventured hesitantly.

Fenris snorted. “We had things we disagreed about but he was… _is_ my friend. No, my lack of knowledge is quite deliberate. Hawke deemed it safer that we not know where he was when we heard the rumours about the Exalted March.”

“I’m not sure that was ever happening,” Cullen said slowly. “The Divine wanted to know what actually happened in Kirkwall but…” He frowned. “I don’t think an Exalted March was in her mind. The Inquisition was.”

Fenris grunted. “You didn’t contradict Varric’s tall tale about what happened at the end.”

It was less a question and more of a statement and Cullen shrugged as best as he could.

“I assume you’re talking about Anders and Orsino?” Fenris nodded and Cullen sighed. “I didn’t see any point. They were more victims than instigators. If Meredith hadn’t been able to indulge in her madness, things might have gone differently.” He sighed and looked guilty. “I should have done more.”

“Orsino, I will grant you, but you are being far too kind to Anders,” Fenris said acerbically.

“If Meredith wasn’t the despot she was, would Justice have pushed him that far?” Cullen countered.

Fenris grunted and looked very sour, seemingly unwilling to concede the point. Cullen managed to dredge up some amusement at that.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I know Hawke spirited them both out of the city somehow, probably with Varric’s connivance, and I don’t see any reason not to let people think they’re dead.”

“I think it was Isabela’s connivance more than Varric’s,” Fenris said dryly. “But they probably both had their hands in it.”

Cullen sighed then stifled a yawn. Fenris arched an eyebrow at him.

“Go to sleep.”

“I can’t…” Cullen began.

“You can and you will,” Fenris replied firmly.

“I thought Hawke was the mother hen,” Cullen said dryly.

Fenris chuckled. “We learned well from him.” He paused. “You have clearly not slept well in several days. I know that look. I have worn it many times. You well be no good to anyone if you do not get some rest.”

Cullen wanted to take offence but… Fenris was right. The headache and nausea that had cut him down today had been inexorably building over the last few days and his inability to sleep well had only helped it along. So he was tired and he suspected Leliana and Josephine might be conspiring behind his back to hit him on the head if he’d read a few of the glances right today. Not that he was going to let go that easily…

“I can’t,” he said. “I have work and I can’t keep you here.”

“Work you will do better when you are rested,” Fenris said, equalling and perhaps bettering his stubbornness. “And you are not keeping me here. I am choosing to stay. In truth, I would welcome the rest myself. I… have difficulty adjusting to new places. I have not been sleeping well.”

Cullen gave him a narrow-eyed look, wondering if that was the truth or not. But he didn’t know Fenris well enough to be able to read his body language, especially when he was being so deliberately bland. Finally he sighed and conceded the battle, rolling his eyes at the smug look the elven warrior gave him. And he let himself relax and closed his eyes, he was surprised how fast sleep claimed him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric meddles, Fenris realises that he is allowed to have what he wants and Cullen is baffled and then very pleased.

“Hey, Broody.”

“Varric.” Fenris raised an eyebrow as Varric sat down opposite him. The table he’d claimed at the Herald’s Rest was small and out of the way, which had always been his preference.

“So,” Varric said after a moment. “You and Curly, eh?”

Fenris gave him a long flat look. “There is no ‘me and Curly’.”

“Huh.” Varric grinned. “You have been spending a lot of time with him and he seems like your type.”

“The last person I… spent time with was Isabela so I’m not sure that comparison really works,” Fenris said dryly. He arched an eyebrow at the dwarf. “What is your point?”

Varric sobered. “I’m not sure I have one and no, I wasn’t looking for inspiration for a book. I was just…” He grimaced. “Curly’s been through a lot and don’t think I haven’t noticed he’s stopped taking lyrium. I’m not blind.”

Fenris looked amused. “Is this… a warning?”

“What? No!” Varric chuckled. “I just… worry. About both of you.”

“There is nothing to worry about,” Fenris said dryly. He paused thoughtfully. “Not that I would object if there was, however he seems… disinterested.”

Varric blinked. “Really? Because the looks I’ve seen him giving you don’t say that.”

“What?”

Varric chuckled. “He watches you, you know? With a little bit more than purely professional interest. And the other day, when you took your shirt off when you were clobbering those upstart recruits into the dirt of the training ground? I thought he was going to combust, he went so red.”

“Huh,” Fenris said thoughtfully then he gave Varric a narrow-eyed look. “You are meddling.”

“Eh, maybe a little,” Varric said with a grin. “I like my friends to be happy.”

Fenris made a grouchy noise and took a long drink of his wine. He grimaced at the taste of it. The innkeeper had lousy taste in wine _and_ ale but he had to admit it was a step up from the Hanged Man. He had heard that Dorian was the man to see for the good wine but he was a long way from being comfortable approaching the Tevinter mage for anything, let alone wine. He was willing to accept Varric and Cullen’s word that the man wasn’t evil but that didn’t make dealing with him any easier.

“So how did it happen? You and Curly?” Varric grinned and held both hands up in a surrender gesture when Fenris glared at him. “Just curious.”

Fenris grumbled under his breath then gave Varric a long look. “You said you knew he was no longer taking lyrium.”

Varric nodded and looked worried. “Yeah, saw it too many times on the streets of Kirkwall to miss the signs in Curly. He’s doing a lot better than they were though. He might actually make it.”

“You do remember that what these are made of,” Fenris said, gesturing towards the markings on his chin.

Varric blinked then his eyes widened. “Shit. Wait… is it a problem?”

Fenris shook his head. “No. He says the lyrium feels different. It… soothes him.”

“So he’s using you as a glorified teddy bear?” Varric said dubiously.

Fenris snorted and looked amused. “Hardly. He refuses to ask for my help even when the withdrawal is severe.”

Varric rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Man’s a bloody martyr.”

“So it has always been my choice to help him,” Fenris said. “He will not ask and has even been reluctant to accept when I have offered.”

“Offered what?” Varric raised an eyebrow then he grinned. “Or should I not ask?”

Fenris snorted. “Touch seems to help, especially direct contact with the lyrium to his skin.” Varric grinned at him and he rolled his eyes before continuing. “Keep your mind out of the gutter, dwarf.”

Varric chuckled. “Well, if it helps him, I’m all for it. Curly works too damn hard. It’s not good for him.”

“And you believe he…” Fenris broke off, unable to articulate the rest. He took refuge in his terrible wine.

“Sparkler’s been teasing him about it over their chess games so I’m not the only one who’s noticed,” Varric replied. “And if we know then you can bet Nightingale and Ruffles know. And the Inquisitor. Sparkler can’t keep a secret worth beans from him.” He grinned. “That’s probably why Curly’s been looking a little harried lately. They’re probably all at him to do something about it.”

Fenris smiled into his wine then drained the goblet. He set it aside and got to his feet. “Well then, perhaps I should help him with that.”

Varric chuckled. “You do that. Maybe you’ll even let me write about it one day.”

“Perish the thought,” Fenris said dryly before he walked away.

He made his way out of the pub, feeling himself relax once he was outside. He liked the Herald’s Rest but he had never been entirely easy in crowds, even in the Hanged Man. It had become easier after he’d killed Danarius but the lingering tension still remained even after all these years. He was feeling pleased with himself though. He knew there was a time when he would never have done this, never have made that first approach, never have felt he was good enough for someone. Isabela had done a great deal to knock those thoughts on the head and he smiled slightly at the memory of the ribald pirate.

He made his way up onto the battlements, nodding to the soldiers that he passed. He felt another surge of pleasure run through him when their response was a respectful nod in return or even a salute here and there. Cullen did not tolerate prejudice or bigotry in his troops and use of the term ‘knife ear’ or worse, ‘rabbit’ was liable to get the utterer some sort of punishment duty that would have them _deeply_ regretting their words and their prejudice. Fenris knew it wasn’t because of him. The Inquisitor was an elf and Cullen was not the sort of man to brook any sort of disrespect for his commanding officer now that he had one he respected. But he got to reap the benefit of it and he enjoyed it.

He knocked briefly at the door to Cullen’s office then walked in. He found the Commander there, standing behind his desk, frowning down at a report and rubbing his forehead.

“Headache?” he asked, leaning against the wall next to the door.

Cullen looked over at him, a little surprised to see him there. “Well… yes but not because of the withdrawal.” He sighed and shook his head. “I know it’s _important_ to know what the Inquisitor does when he is out and about but… sometimes I wish I _didn’t_ have to know.”

Fenris chuckled. “Think of this… it could have been worse.”

“How?” 

“It could have been Hawke.”

Cullen groaned. “Alright. I’ll concede that one.” He cocked an eyebrow at Fenris. “I thought he was your friend.”

“He is but that just means I know more than most about the sort of trouble he attracts,” Fenris said dryly.

Cullen smiled slightly. “How’s your shoulder?” he asked with concern.

“It’s fine,” Fenris said. He’d taken a heavy blow on his left shoulder during his last mission. He’d managed to finish it but the healers had told him when he returned that he was lucky he hadn’t broken anything. The bruising had been bad enough. He’d been stood down for a couple of weeks while everything healed.

“Have the healers cleared you yet?”

“No,” Fenris said with exasperation. “They are mollycoddling me.”

Cullen chuckled. “They’re really not.”

Fenris rolled his shoulder, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder. “I’m fine. I have done more with worse.”

Cullen’s face looked rather pinched at that. “Perhaps,” he said awkwardly. He knew the bare bones about Fenris’ background from Varric but he’d deliberately avoided the details. He’d only wanted enough so that he wouldn’t inadvertently hit any raw nerves. “But you don’t _have_ to.”

“Now you sound like Varric.”

“Maker, I hope not,” Cullen said with a small smile.

Fenris chuckled again and pushed himself off the wall. He walked towards the desk then around it, watching Cullen closely as he did. The man blushed as he got closer and shuffled his feet with an expression that was both nervous and wary.

“Uh, Fenris?” Cullen said, stepping backwards as Fenris closed in.

Fenris continued until he’d all but backed Cullen up against the wall. He didn’t think the man realised that and he stopped with Cullen a step away from hitting the stone. It occurred to him that he’d never really possessed the power in any relationship he’d had but that he did here. At least a sort of power. The power to ask for what he wanted and what was more, to actually have it if it was given to him. For as long as he wanted and for as long as Cullen wanted. It was a heady feeling and he liked it.

“It has been brought to my attention that you… have feelings for me,” he said bluntly. He supposed he could have eased his way up to the subject but he didn’t really know how and at least this way there was no chance of any misunderstandings.

Cullen paled and looked to the side. “I, uh… er…”

“That is rather convenient,” Fenris continued blithely. “Since those feelings are mutual.”

Cullen’s eyes shot up to meet his and the man blushed furiously

“It is my opinion that we should do something about this,” Fenris said before Cullen could say anything. He could feel his heart hammering against his chest but he kept bulling his way ahead. He wasn’t really sure if it was the best way but… he’d started it and now he couldn’t really stop.

Cullen’s jaw sagged for a moment. “I… Fenris… what…” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m… I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Fenris.”

“Why not?”

“I… I’m not… very good at…” Cullen licked his lips and looked anywhere but at Fenris. “I don’t think I’d be very good as keeping things casual.”

Fenris arched an eyebrow. “Who says I want that?”

Cullen looked at him again, his eyes wide and his expression confused. “What?”

Fenris gave a faint wry smile. “I do not want a mere tumble.”

“I… er…” Cullen’s blush was back again. “What do you want?”

“To try,” Fenris said after a small pause. He softened a little then as he tried to make Cullen understand “I have little experience with this. Actually, I have none. At least none that I remember. Sex, I know. Though until recently my experiences with that were uniformly bad. But I want more than just sex. I do not know if this will work but I would like to try.”

Cullen swallowed. “I… may not be very good at this myself.”

Fenris snorted. “Neither will I.” He shrugged. “I like you. I would like to try.”

“I… yes. Uh, so would I,” Cullen replied, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck and smiling shyly.

Fenris closed the gap between them and curled one hand around the back of Cullen’s neck. He pulled the man down into a kiss. It was awkward and hesitant at first then Cullen sighed and relaxed and his hands dropped to Fenris’ hips. The kiss then took on some heat. Fenris closed his eyes as it deepened. He’d never kissed before Isabela and she’d taught him a number of tricks along with the basics. Cullen, however, didn’t bother with tricks. He kissed with the same earnest intensity he used with everything else he did. Fenris quickly decided that he liked it.

They were so involved with the kiss that neither heard the door open until there was a sudden squeak from behind them.

“Commander… Oh! Sorry, sir! Going, sir!”

Fenris felt when Cullen would have pulled away and leaned into the man, pressing him back into the wall. He could tell that Cullen was surprised by his strength and he saw the moment when the man realised that the only way he could escape from the situation as to push Fenris away and he clearly didn’t want to do that.

“They’ll come back later.”

Cullen blushed. “I, er…” He sighed. “I told you I wouldn’t be good at this.”

Fenris chuckled. “You’re doing fine by my standards.” He glanced over his shoulder at the closed door. “But everyone will know about this by nightfall.”

Cullen sighed and rolled his eyes. “Of course they will.”

Fenris waited a moment but Cullen didn’t seem inclined to comment further or to actually move. “You don’t mind.” It wasn’t _quite_ a question.

“Well,” Cullen shrugged awkwardly. “I’d rather people weren’t gossiping about my private life but I… I’m not ashamed of this… us.”

“Good,” Fenris said then he leaned in and kissed Cullen again.

This time the Commander slid an arm around his waist and Fenris hummed his approval. The kisses they exchanged were rather chaste but Fenris didn’t push for more. He rather liked this. Just kisses with no expectation for more right now but the sure and certain knowledge that more was on the table if they both wanted it. When they finally separated again, Cullen looked a little dazed. It was a good look on him.

“I should let you get back to work.”

Cullen licked his lips and nodded and Fenris was pleased to see the momentary disappointment in his eyes. “Yes, I should do that. Um. Would you… uh, join me for dinner tonight?”

“Since it will actually ensure you _have_ dinner, yes,” Fenris said dryly.

Cullen looked mildly outraged then he laughed ruefully. “Guilty as charged.”

Fenris stepped away reluctantly then headed for the door. “I will see you this evening then.”

Cullen nodded and the last thing Fenris saw before he closed the door was the Commander touching his lips with his fingers with a look of wonder and quiet joy on his face.


End file.
